Carry Me Home: a tribute to Blink 182 and 6th grade me
It’s November of 2003, nearly 20 years ago. My family takes a weekend trip to my second favorite establishment to browse, narrowly behind the beloved local Blockbuster…
Best Buy.
And that’s when I see it. Blink 182’s new, self-titled album that would become one of my all time favorites. But there was one issue- the PARENTAL ADVISORY: EXPLICIT CONTENT sticker on the bottom left corner of the cover. I knew there was no chance I would be allowed to purchase this album, even with my own hard-earned money from mowing lawns in the neighborhood. That’s when my angsty and sly pre-teen mode kicked in. I was already becoming well-versed in toileting-papering houses past midnight with my cronies; I could figure out a way around this. Also, I was bummed I wouldn’t be attending their upcoming concert- it was on a school night, and Blink 182 wasn’t exactly known for having the most kid-friendly content out there. I needed this album. I started plotting.
See, I was already well aware that Best Buy’s owner was a musical purist. He wouldn’t stand for the edited albums that were available in other stores. I think I’d read something earlier that day on our Gateway 95 computer after waiting several minutes for it to dial up and start. He felt like music was made to be listened to in its original form- no bleeps, no edits, no “bastardizing” it. The word stuck out to me because I had never heard it before. Because of his commitment to authentic tracks, I knew my mission would be difficult.
As I scanned through the albums, I noticed the parental advisory labels were barely visible on a few behind the $9.99 yellow price tag. There has to be one, I think to myself. Sure enough, I locate a CD with the warning label covered entirely. I flash it to my mom, celebrating that this must be an edited version (even though I secretly knew better)! A few minutes later, we’re blasting Feeling This on the drive home, the first song on the album. If you’re familiar with the song, you know a sexual reference and loud f-bomb are coming at you in the opening lines. What a rush!
I’ll never forget the first time I heard a Blink 182 song, probably a couple years prior to this glorious Best Buy run. I had just gotten Now3, and What’s My Age Again? was my favorite song featured on that album. To this day, it blows my mind that this song is only 2 minutes and 26 seconds long. And over 20 years later, it is just as catchy as it was when I first heard it- a crowd pleaser at karaoke, a nostalgic throwback, a great road trip classic. I remember proudly blasting it during a long trip to a soccer tournament on the Now3 CD. My best friend Daniel was in the car and so was his dad, a pastor. I remember the thrill of waiting to see if he noticed the 3 or 4 cuss words in the song. I don’t think he did, or he just wasn’t phased by it. A fellow rebel!
My lovely wife gifted me concert tickets to see Blink 182 for my birthday this year. I’ve been spending considerable time in the car lately listening back through all of their old songs, and some of their new ones. As I do, I find myself endeared to… well, myself. I am thinking of the way my honor-roll, baby-fat wearing, sort-of-angsty-but-not-really 6th grade self navigated the world, and I’m feeling immensely fond of him. I had so many big questions about life swirling in my head at that age, and like all kids, I was just trying to figure it all out. Figure myself out. There were times, especially in middle school, where I remember struggling to always like myself. I wanted to be more muscular, wanted my voice to get deeper more quickly than it did, wanted to be seen as edgy even though it was a pipedream. I wanted to be popular but I also felt the tension of engaging in what was deemed cool during those years, because it just didn’t feel like me. I love that version of myself now and realize how normal it is to go through that, and I wonder if that’s part of what is so special about still enjoying something today I enjoyed back then. I’m endeared to 12-year old me, and I just wish I could whisper a few things in that kid’s ears I know now. As Blink 182 says in their hit song Dammit, “Well I guess this is growing up.”
I am now grown up, an entire adult with all the adult things- a kid, a job, a house, etc. And, yet, here I am still singing the songs of my childhood and enjoying them like I’m 12 again. It feels freeing, like realizing you’re on the other side of something you can now help others navigate. I’m raising a son now and working with elementary school-aged students, and I know my experiences of growing up can help me love them and be endeared to them like I am to my old self. I have a deep sense that being part of people’s lives during this time is a real privilege, and one I really cherish.
There is also something that feels sacred about listening to lyrics over and over that I used to quote on away messages on AIM Instant Messenger, having no real understanding of what they could mean other than that they caught my attention and felt worthy of sharing at the time. Maybe, like I wanted to show Pastor Jeff, I wanted the world to see that even though I attended bible study weekly with my friends and got straight A’s in school, there was also the side of me that wanted to pierce my ears and bleach my hair blonde. Another thing I wasn’t allowed to do… thanks, mom and dad!
I even started a punk rock band at one point with friends of mine that we titled, NO NEED FOR A NAME! Had it been around at the time, we probably would’ve started an Instagram account for our band, full of adolescent kids who didn’t even sing or play instruments. But we had big plans to learn! I remember printing out photos of electric guitars that looked similar to the ones Tom Delonge played, salivating over the idea of saving up enough money from mowing lawns to buy one. I never did, but I would later pick up playing acoustic guitar in college. I plan to teach my son some of the Blink 182 hits one day.
I’ve become obsessed with words in my adult years. I’ve spent the last year reading through Devotions by Mary Oliver, a collection of some of her best poetry. When someone asks me the question, What’s saving your life right now? this book has been a close second to the laughter of my toddler. SomethingI love about poetry is how much it begs you to submerge into the silence it evokes. It’s not so much about reading poetry to discover its meaning, but allowing it to read you, and see what the words of someone else might stir up in your own soul. The same is true for music, and I wonder if that’s what made me burst into tears at a red light while listening to All The Small Things a couple weeks ago, another Blink classic. It was the year anniversary of my friend Steven’s death, and it was the reliable early morning moment where I first remember his passing. I was at a red light, listening, when the chorus overtook me with emotions.
Say it ain’t so, I will not go,
Turn the lights off, carry me home
I was so struck by the carry me home line that I almost missed my green light. I didn’t want to move from that moment. It reminded me of one of my favorite Ram Doss lines that I think of often- “At the end of the day, we’re all just walking each other home.”
I thought about how the notion of walking (or carrying) each other home is one of my favorite thought exercises to insert into any situation. In this moment, what is required of me to walk home the people nearest to me? Who needs carried, and who just needs a listening ear walking next to them? I thought about all the times I’ve been walked home in the past year after losing a good friend. I thought about all the things sustaining me at that moment, all invited in by a simple line in an old song I’ve loved since I was just a kid. I suppose I also felt like a kid in that moment, which felt right.
Carry me home. What a line. What a soul-stirrer, all these years later. Mid-2000’s punk rock? Sounds more like poetry to me.
